Chapter 2 - THE LIE IN ROOM 4B
The moment Lorenzo Moretti disappeared into his study, Mrs. Gable turned on Nora.
Her pleasant expression vanished so quickly it was almost frightening.
“You,” she hissed.
Nora stopped halfway toward the servants’ corridor.
“Me?”
“Room 4B.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
Mrs. Gable moved closer.
“You are going upstairs immediately. You will remove that ridiculous blanket you bought, open the windows for five minutes so the room smells fresh, put his proper tray on the table, and make certain there is nothing in there that suggests you’ve been interfering with my instructions.”
Nora stared at her.
“Interfering?”
“You heard me.”
“He was freezing.”
“He is an invalid.”
“He is a human being.”
Mrs. Gable’s eyes hardened.
For months, Nora had swallowed insults because she needed the job.
Today something stopped her.
Maybe it was exhaustion.
Maybe it was the baby pressing painfully beneath her ribs.
Or maybe after hearing Mrs. Gable tell Lorenzo that Giovanni had been treated “like a king,” Nora could no longer pretend silence was harmless.
Mrs. Gable grabbed Nora’s arm.
“You forget yourself.”
Nora winced.
“Let go of me.”
The older woman tightened her grip.
“You forget that I am the only reason a pregnant girl with no references and a deadbeat boyfriend was allowed through these gates.”
“My boyfriend isn’t—”
Nora stopped.
Brody was gone.
Whatever she wanted to call him no longer mattered.
Mrs. Gable smiled.
“That’s what I thought.”
She released Nora.
“Go upstairs.”
Nora did.
But she did not remove the blanket.
Instead, she entered room 4B, closed the door, and leaned against it for several seconds.
Giovanni sat near the fire.
She had lit it before dawn, knowing Lorenzo would arrive that morning.
The room was warmer than usual.
“Your son is here,” Nora whispered.
Giovanni’s eyes shifted toward her.
“Yes. Lorenzo.”
His fingers moved faintly on the chair arm.
Nora walked over.
“I think Mrs. Gable is terrified.”
Something almost changed in Giovanni’s expression.
Nora smiled tiredly.
“You probably think that’s funny.”
His index finger moved once.
Nora froze.
She had noticed tiny movements before.
A twitch.
A squeeze.
A change in his eyes.
But that had looked deliberate.
“John?”
The finger moved again.
Nora crouched.
“Can you understand me?”
His eyes locked onto hers.
She stopped breathing.
“Once for yes?”
One movement.
Nora’s heart pounded.
“Twice for no?”
Two slow movements.
She covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
For three months she had talked to him because she believed somewhere inside he might understand tone, comfort, kindness.
Now she knew.
“You understand everything.”
One movement.
Her eyes filled.
“All these years?”
One.
Nora sat back on her heels.
A wave of horror moved through her.
The insults.
The cold.
The neglect.
Mrs. Gable calling him useless directly in front of him.
Staff members joking about how easy it was to steal food from his tray because “the corpse in 4B wouldn’t complain.”
He had heard it all.
“I’m sorry.”
Giovanni’s fingers moved twice.
No.
Nora blinked.
“No?”
He moved one finger toward her.
Then toward himself.
Slowly.
Again.
She understood.
“Don’t be sorry for you?”
One.
Tears blurred her vision.
She took his hand.
“I should tell Lorenzo.”
Giovanni’s entire body seemed to tense.
His finger moved twice.
No.
Nora frowned.
“Why?”
He could not answer that.
She began asking questions.
“Do you trust him?”
One.
“Do you want him to know you understand?”
A pause.
Then one.
“Then why not tell him now?”
Giovanni’s eyes shifted toward the door.
Nora followed his gaze.
“Someone in the house?”
One.
Her skin went cold.
“Someone you don’t trust?”
One.
“Mrs. Gable?”
Giovanni’s finger hesitated.
Then moved once.
Nora stood.
Before she could ask more, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
The door opened.
Mrs. Gable stood there.
“What are you doing?”
Nora released Giovanni’s hand.
“Feeding him.”
“There is no food.”
“I was talking to him.”
Mrs. Gable laughed.
“To him?”
Her contempt filled the room.
“You might as well talk to the curtains.”
Nora looked at Giovanni.
His eyes remained lowered.
Not a movement.
Not a sign.
He was pretending.
That frightened her more than anything.
Mrs. Gable crossed the room and yanked the heated blanket away.
“I told you to remove this.”
“Put it back.”
Mrs. Gable turned.
“What did you say?”
“He is cold.”
“He doesn’t know whether he is cold.”
“Yes, he does.”
The words slipped out.
Giovanni’s eyes moved sharply toward Nora.
Too late.
Mrs. Gable stared.
“What?”
Nora’s mind raced.
“I mean his skin is cold. Anyone can feel that.”
Mrs. Gable studied her.
Then smiled.
A terrible, slow smile.
“You have become too comfortable here.”
She threw the blanket on the floor.
“Pick it up.”
Nora did not move.
“I said pick it up.”
“No.”
Silence.
Mrs. Gable stepped closer.
“You have ten seconds to remember who you are.”
Nora placed a protective hand over her belly.
“I know exactly who I am.”
Mrs. Gable’s eyes dropped to the pregnancy.
Then something ugly appeared in her face.
“You think carrying a child makes you untouchable?”
“No.”
“It makes you expensive.”
Nora felt danger before she understood it.
Mrs. Gable reached for her.
The bedroom door opened again.
Neither woman had heard the footsteps.
Lorenzo Moretti stood there.
He had removed his coat.
His black dress shirt was open at the throat, sleeves rolled once to the forearms.
His gray eyes moved first to Mrs. Gable’s hand.
Then to Nora.
Then to the blanket on the floor.
Nobody spoke.
Lorenzo looked at his father.
The fire.
Fresh flowers.
A bowl of peeled oranges.
A comb on the table.
The room did not look like the room Mrs. Gable had intended him to see.
“Explain,” he said.
Mrs. Gable recovered immediately.
“Mr. Moretti, I was correcting a staff member. Nora has become emotionally attached to your father and repeatedly disregards medical instructions.”
“Medical instructions?”
“Yes. She gives him outside food. Moves his chair. Lights fires that could affect his breathing.”
Lorenzo looked at Nora.
“Is that true?”
Nora swallowed.
“I give him warm food.”
“Why?”
“Because the food they bring him is often cold.”
Mrs. Gable scoffed.
“That is a lie.”
Lorenzo did not look at her.
“Continue.”
Nora’s knees felt weak.
“His room was freezing when I first came here. Sometimes he was left in the same clothes too long.”
Mrs. Gable stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti—”
Lorenzo raised one hand.
She stopped.
Nora continued.
“He needed someone to comb his hair. To open the curtains. To speak to him.”
“You were hired to clean.”
“Yes.”
“Not provide nursing care.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
The question was not cruel.
It sounded genuine.
Nora looked at Giovanni.
“Because nobody else was doing it.”
Something moved in Lorenzo’s face.
He approached his father.
For the first time, Nora saw the ruthless crime boss become a son.
Lorenzo crouched.
“Papa.”
Giovanni stared at him.
Lorenzo touched his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I stayed away so long.”
Nora saw Giovanni’s finger move.
Once.
Lorenzo did not notice.
Mrs. Gable did.
Her face changed.
Only for a second.
But Nora saw it.
So did Giovanni.
That was why he had warned her.
Mrs. Gable knew he could communicate.
And she had been hiding it.
Lorenzo stood.
“Call Dr. Bellucci.”
Mrs. Gable stiffened.
“Sir?”
“My father’s neurologist.”
“He’s unavailable during the storm.”
“Then make him available.”
“Mr. Moretti, your father’s condition hasn’t changed in years.”
Lorenzo’s gaze shifted toward her.
“I didn’t ask for your medical opinion.”
Her face paled.
“No, sir.”
He looked at Nora.
“You.”
“Yes?”
“Stay.”
Mrs. Gable stared at her.
Lorenzo’s expression hardened.
“I said stay.”
Mrs. Gable left.
The door closed.
Lorenzo looked toward the blanket.
“You bought that?”
Nora nodded.
“With estate money?”
“My money.”
“How much do I pay you?”
Nora hesitated.
He repeated the question.
“Four hundred eighty dollars a week after deductions.”
His eyes narrowed.
“And you bought my father a heated blanket.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nora almost laughed.
“I already answered that.”
“No. You said nobody else was helping him.”
He stepped closer.
“I’m asking why you cared.”
Nora rested one hand over Lily.
“Because being helpless does not make someone less human.”
Silence.
Then Giovanni’s hand moved.
Not the finger.
The entire hand.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He reached toward Nora.
Lorenzo froze.
Nora froze.
Giovanni’s fingers closed weakly around the edge of Nora’s sleeve.
Lorenzo stared at his father.
“Papa?”
Giovanni did not look at him.
He looked directly at Nora.
One finger moved.
Once.
Lorenzo saw it.
His face lost all color.
“Did he just—”
Nora whispered, “Yes.”
Lorenzo crouched beside the wheelchair.
“Papa, can you understand me?”
Giovanni moved one finger.
Once.
For the first time since Nora had met Lorenzo Moretti, the feared man looked frightened.
He swallowed.
“Have you understood me all these years?”
One movement.
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
His forehead lowered against his father’s hand.
For several seconds, the most dangerous man in the house said nothing.
Then Giovanni’s finger moved toward the door Mrs. Gable had just exited through.
Once.
Lorenzo lifted his head.
His face changed.
The son disappeared.
The Mafia boss returned.
“What is he saying?”
Nora looked at Giovanni.
She understood.
“He’s telling you to look at her.”
Lorenzo rose slowly.
May you like
Outside the room, somewhere deep inside the estate, Mrs. Gable was already making a phone call.
And she was not calling the doctor.
